Roma Should Come with a Trigger Warning

Our last family vacation was to Mexico City, circa Roma’s 1970–71

Dog shit is the filigree that holds together my earliest childhood memories, and, as is evident now but wasn’t then, stands for the dysfunction that engulfed and ultimately destroyed my family.

My mom, enraged, began drinking heavily. And my brother, Steven, began to sexually molest me: no one noticed.

Dad reached out and grabbed my right hand at the same time as I grasped mom’s extended hand. I became a human rope in their tug of war.

Essays, anthologies, and memoirs, oh my!!

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